


It's Good to Be King

by RebaK1tten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sex Dreams, description of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Comment Fic at LJ.  Crowley and It's good to be king, which is a handy title.</p>
<p>Crowley reflects on his day and why he likes being the king of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Good to Be King

It’s almost the end of the day, and a very self-satisfied Crowley looks at the to-do list on his phone.

There was that nice little earthquake in China today.  Damage reports still coming in, but initial reports are promising.

The winners of today’s salt shaker lottery were:  Amit Singh of Jaipur, Miku Satu in Toyko and Anna T. Burns of Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the good ole US of A.   Yes, it’s petty and probably beneath the King of Hell, but he’s been playing the salt shaker lottery for a hundred years and it’s still amusing when the top of the shaker comes off (or just breaks) and the entire shaker full of salt goes into the “winner’s” food.  Small pleasures, darling.

On a larger note, he finished his Hell set just in time or a visit from Castiel.  He was able to show him the “new and improved” version with long, boring queues and might have convinced the God Wanna-Be of his vision.  Of course beyond the set is his actual Hell, fun as ever with birds eternally picking out the damned’s eyes, children jumping rope with eviscerated intestines while their owner watches and Crowley’s personal favorite – the skinning racks.  Good times…

Since Castiel was so protective of the Winchesters (and their pet drunk), insisting that Crowley “not touch a hair on their heads” he’s sent a nice painful, bleeding hemorrhoid to the lovely Bobby Singer.  Castiel said “their heads” and said nothing about not touching their hairy butts, so by the letter of the law, he’s in compliance.

For his good friend Sam, he’s sent another in a series of dreams – every time he falls asleep, he’ll continue the dream Crowley’s scripted.  Sam back in the cage, tortured by his bestest friend Lucifer.  Sweet dreams, Moose.

Dean.  Dean has been very interesting and fun to play with.  Totally in love with his pretty angel and too much of a manly-man to admit it.  Initially, Crowley loved the drama, but he’s getting tired of watching them circle each other and is _this close_ to yelling, “Oh, just go do it, would you?”   So for his buddy Dean, another in his custom designed dreams.  Last night’s script was Crowley behind him, fucking him hard and dream-Dean muttering, “More, please Sir, give me more.”   Interesting how this morning, when Dean woke up all sticky again, he did his usual sprint to the shower, and had a quick wank there.   Crowley is looking forward to seeing what happens after tonight’s dream, including the usual rough fucking and ends with Crowley biting Dean’s neck in a volcano of blood.  Wank to that, will you?

But that was today and even the King gets some down time.  Only a couple of things that didn’t get done.  He’s got a plague planned for Ghana; he hasn’t done much with them lately and they shouldn’t feel ignored or complacent.  That might be something good to delegate to one of his minions.  Build trust with the team and they get to learn new skills, blah blah blah.  Send that off in an email.

He was planning on contacting one of those Apple computer developers and suggesting that they put out a new device that won’t use any of the current power cords.  Again, petty, but damned amusing.  He can do that tomorrow.  Not that they won’t just come up with that on their own, which is why Crowley just loves those people, it’s like they’re family.

Now it’s time to put on some nice silky pyjamas and have a glass of scotch and relax with a bit of telly.  That Hoarders show was another great idea of his – get people completely fucked up and then have more people addicted to watching their pain.  Other than the ones with cat hoarders, which Crowley does not like.   He likes cats, really the only animal that he’s ever understood and trusted.

Nice bit of relaxation at the end of another productive day.  It is, Crowley thinks, very very good to be the King.

 


End file.
